Chapter Text
Hermione was not new to surprises. Nor was she new to challenges.
After thinking that magic was a fantasy for 11 years, she found out that she was a rare, generally unliked kind of witch-- yet, she took that with pride and worked her ass off to prove herself. She went to Hogwarts thinking that being muggleborn would be her biggest challenge. She was so entirely far from correct-- yet, she still stuck by her two best friends and defeated one of the darkest wizards in magical history.
This may have been why she went down the road she did-- curse breaking. Not only did this profession provide a way for Hermione to constantly be learning (something that she adored with her whole heart), but it also allowed for her to use the creative and problem-solving brain that she fine-tuned during her years battling Voldemort.
Every cursed item, hallway, or mansion was a new challenge for Hermione to overcome. And she loved every second of it.
Working as a ministry-hired curse breaker was Hermione’s life. It was very much like Hermione to become so invested in her work that she forgot about everything outside of enchanted artifacts-- thankfully, she had Harry, Ginny and Ron to keep her from becoming a Hobbit.
Harry and Ginny were newly married, with Harry as an Auror, and Ginny as a keeper for the women’s quidditch team, the Holly Harpees. Hermione was extremely happy for the pair, but couldn’t stop herself at points from yearning for the same soulmate bond that her best friends had. Yet, she tried the relationship thing, and it just… didn’t work.
The media, after the war, expected Hermione and Ron to have the perfect relationship. Why wouldn’t the last two members of the Golden Trio end up together?
The answer: Hermione wasn’t Ron’s type. No, she was absolutely gorgeous, but Ron preferred… harder edges to the feminine curves of Hermione’s body. Ron’s homosexuality was revealed to the pair in a painfully embarrassing night of their relationship; to sum it up, Ron just couldn’t seem to... "get it up." Lesson learned.
So where did that leave Hermione? Single, twenty-six, and too busy caring about work to worry about her increasing libido. Sure, she had her flings. But she still hadn’t found the one for her.
Harry and Hermione were finishing up their conversation about Hermione’s weekend over some Ministry Cafeteria sandwiches.
"You mean... all you did on a FRIDAY NIGHT was read?" Harry exclaimed.
"What's wrong with that? I'd rather learn something than go rub bodies with random, drunk people." Hermione said, defensively.
“Hermione, you can’t only work for the rest of your life.” Harry sighed, running his fingers through his somehow-always-messy hair.
“Harry, you know me. I absolutely can. I don’t want to hear anymore about how you think I’m ‘lonely.’ Hannah, you don’t think I’m lonely, do you?” Hermione asked her secretary of three years, Hannah Abbott.
“What answer is least likely to get me fired?” Hermione sighed. She knew deep down that her friends were right, but she was too focused on making the magical world a safer place from old, dark curses to have time for dating. “But seriously, Hermione. Harry is right. You need a break. Go dancing! Have fu-” Hannah stopped her sentence when Hermione’s face started to redden. “I see this isn’t a wanted topic of conversation. Harry, you better go before she blows a fuse.”
“Think about it, ‘Mione.” Harry resigned, before winking at Hannah and going back to the Auror wing.
“Can we talk about actual work now, please?” Hermione begged her secretary. With an eye roll, Hannah handed Hermione a few files with her future projects’ information. “Thank Merlin. Hannah, I’m going to stay to look these over-- you can leave now if you’d like.”
“Thanks Hermione! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hannah started to gather her things, while Hermione walked into her office and sat in her chair with a sigh. Massaging her temples from the headache that talking about her social life provided, Hermione started absent-mindedly flipping through the folders.
An antique being used in a Hogwarts lesson, simple enough. A vase, some old books and… a full manor? Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes. The last time she broke curses from a full manor was years ago, when Harry convinced her to curse break his new auror buddy, Draco Malfoy’s, newly inherited estate. She went to check the house’s owner.
Nott. Hmm. Something about that last name seemed familiar to Hermione. Nott, Nott…
Hermione jumped out of her seat with a gasp. Theodore Nott, child of the infamous death eater, Theodore Nott senior, wanted to remove anti-muggleborn curses? Hannah must’ve mixed up files from another department. It isn’t possible.
“Hannah!” Hermione caught the girl before she stepped into the Floo. “Did you mix up files, or am I actually curse breaking the Nott Manor?”
“Hermione, you already removed anti-muggleborn wards from the Malfoy Manor- a home owned by your old arch nemesis. This shouldn’t be any different. But, if it’s such an issue, just give it to Bill to do instead.”
Hermione wasn’t one to say no to a challenge, and Hannah was entirely right, but still, Hermione couldn’t wrap her head around this assignment. Sure, Theo never called her a “Mudblood” to her face. But he must’ve said it behind her back, right? At this point, she wasn’t sure. She thought all of the snakes hated muggleborns, and yet, Hermione’s only memories of Nott were of him reading calmly while Draco and Pansy threw slurs at the Golden Trio.
Draco may have apologized, but Nott hadn’t. Hermione needed to think about if she could actually do this job. Also, she needed a drink. Talking to Harry about her sex life required some copius amounts of Firewhiskey to be forgotten about. She’d worry about Nott the next day.